The Haunted Inn (Haunted House Ghost Story): The Hauntings of Kingston

by Michelle Dorey

  His back muscles tightened in a quivering shiver. The house felt chilly and the air extremely thick on his skin. He looked over at Tim, who was holding his elbows tight to his body. “Did you feel that?”

  “Oh no, not again.” Gwen’s mutter drifted from behind them.

  “Yeah. What the hell?” Tim said and glanced behind him at the real estate woman. “What was that, Gwen?”

  She sighed and her voice was low, as if she didn’t want to disturb the air. “Everyone who comes in here feels the same thing after crossing the threshold. My grandmother would have called it the feeling that ‘someone’s walked over my grave’.”

  Tim turned back to Brad and he grinned, “Bingo!” He raised his hand for the classic ‘high five’.

  Brad smiled, exchanging the feeling of dread for one of optimism and clapped his hand against Tim’s. “Perfect!” He turned back to look around the foyer.

  There was a curved archway on each side of the open space, and the light from the brightness of the day outside highlighted the hardwood floor in each room. He couldn’t help wonder, where it had taken place—the murders.

  Tim brushed by him, striding to the right, through the arched entry. “Look at the size of this room and that view. It’s downright pastoral!”

  Gwen sidled close to Brad. “It’s a centre hall plan, with the living room on one side and the dining room on the other.” She took a step into the room where Tim stood, gaping around at the walls and high ceilings. “This is the living room or as it was once called, the parlour.”

  Tim beckoned to him, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “I like that. The parlour. It sounds old fashioned. Come into my parlour said the spider to the fly.”

  Brad looked around, and his shoulders tensed in a soft shudder. The air was still heavy and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched. His gaze switched between Gwen and Tim. “Is it just me, or does this room give you a case of the willies, too?”

  Gwen nodded slightly, her smile now gone.

  “It’s perfect, isn’t it? The atmosphere just oozes from the walls. I love it!” Tim grinned and rubbed his palms briskly together, his body fairly vibrating with glee. He spun slowly, taking in all of the room. “This just needs a good cleaning. No holes in the plaster or boards that needs replacing.”

  He continued, leading the way to the back of the house. “Oh my God, Brad. Look at this. Why the lake is so close, you can almost hear the lapping of the water on the shore.”

  Gwen looked over at Brad and her eyebrows bobbed high for a moment. “It is a lovely property.” The tone and timbre of her voice belied the compliment, especially when she looked away so quickly.

  Brad’s gaze lingered on the realtor, seeing clearly her unease in the quick, strained movements and even her body language screamed discomfort. If her reaction to the house was any indication of how most people would be affected, they were going to make a fortune. As for his own unsettled feeling, it would go away or at the very least, he’d get used to it. He smiled and wandered slowly into the back room to join Tim.

  One wall contained rows of shelves, floor to ceiling, next to a window overlooking the waterfront. It was bigger than the front room and much brighter, not quite as eerie. They’d have to work on spooking it up.

  “This is obviously the library. We can raid old bookstores and get some ancient books to fill up the shelves.” Brad chuckled. “And if some of the heavier ones fall, banging in the middle of the night... Well, that’d be great.”

  “Totally!” Tim grinned and pranced out of the room. His footsteps stopped and after a moment he called. “Brad. Give me a hand here, will you?”

  When Brad got to the archway, Tim was pulling on a heavy wooden door that led to the outside. “I flipped the deadbolt. It must be swollen in the frame and stuck from not being used.” He turned and smiled above cheeks that were flushed pink with his effort. Tim was the brains of the team, not the brawn. The most exercise he ever got was walking to the fridge for a beer.

  Brad rolled his eyes and stepped close, elbowing him out of the way while Gwen’s voice sounded over his shoulder. “Sure, it’s not locked?”

  His eyes grew round and he lurched back suddenly when the door swung wide. He’d hardly used any force at all. It had seemed to float in his hands, opening to reveal a wooden step and flagstone path leading to the lake. The rush of warm air that flooded over him brought a smile to his lips.

  “I must have loosened it for you. Honestly, the bloody thing was stuck when I tried it.” A deep scowl dissected the dark line of Tim’s eyebrows.

  “Sure, Tim.” Brad chuckled. He left the door wide open, letting the warm air from the outside flood through the house.

  Gwen had left the library and beckoned them to follow her further down the hall to the kitchen.

  “If you’re serious about setting up a bed and breakfast, you’ll love this kitchen. There’s lots of room for cooking and you can see the lake and out into the greenhouse.” For the first time, Gwen’s smile was genuine and at ease, sweeping her arm while slowly stepping in a circle.

  It was funny, but Brad also felt more comfortable in this room. For one thing it was bright, but not only that...the air seemed lighter. It was probably because the back door was wide open. Still, she was right about one thing. There was a ton of space and if the two of them were preparing a big breakfast for guests, they’d need that.

  Tim looked over at him and winked before a long sigh seeped from his lips. His gaze flickered to Gwen and his voice became theatrical. “Yes. But the cupboards and countertop are dated. Kitchens are expensive to renovate. Too bad.” Tim turned to face him, away from Gwen’s eyes and grinned, before setting off to continue his walk through.

  The bugger. Already trying to wheedle the price down. The corners of Brad’s lips twitched in a smile, that he tried to hide from Gwen.

  “The dining room, I presume.” Tim called out, doing his best British accent.

  Brad shook his head and wandered over to his friend. “Will you prepare the tea, Holland.” He couldn’t resist. They’d both seen too many episodes of Downton Abby that past winter and the fact that they’d found almost exactly the house they were looking for made them downright giddy.

  “This is huge! We can feed an army in this room it’s so big!” Tim was stepping on different floorboards, testing for squeaks.

  A sense of sadness enveloped Brad as he gazed around the room. In his mind’s eye he saw what it had once been like in days long ago. Over there a huge Christmas tree glowed with lights, tinsel, garlands and ornaments. To his left there had been a large dining room table festooned with turkey and all the trimmings. A family with small children were gathered around, joined by grandparents getting on in years. The blessing had just been said, and Father was about to carve.

  In the wink of an eye it was gone. Leaving him nothing but a sense of cold, hollow emptiness. Not even grief nor fear nor terror. Just a sense of empty loss.

  He sighed. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and turned away, gazing across the expanse of lawn to clear his head. Seeing the overgrown field, his eyebrows rose. That was another thing they’d need—a riding lawn mower. Well, maybe that could be fun.

  “Check this out!” Tim’s voice drifted from outside the room, from the open doorway and a brightly lit room. “There’s a greenhouse attached to the house. We could have a small sitting area here and maybe grow some herbs. There’ll be fresh flowers at every meal.” He smiled, looking out the windows at the large maple tree. “I can’t wait to show my parents this place.”

  Brad stepped into the greenhouse and took a deep breath of the pungently warm air. His fingers grazed along the shelf littered with chipped and broken clay pots, spindly dried up stems of plants poking from the dark earth. There was a desperate sense of abandonment in the room, more telling than what he felt in the dining room.

  He picked up a broken shard of pottery and turned to Tim. “It’s got real possibility, doesn’t it? B
ut, I’m not sure about the herbs and making this room all cosy and nice.” Dropping the shard on the workbench he said, “That’s not the point of we’re trying to do here, is it?”

  Tim, bounced the heel of his hand against his forehead. “You’re right. I should be thinking of lighting and spectral images, not daisies and dill.” He turned to go back into the dining room, but his foot caught on a wooden box jutting from under the shelf, making him stumble.

  Brad, looked down, expecting to see garden tools or more pots. His head tilted to the side when he noticed the contents. A board game and some books? He bent and plucked the game up, dusting the top with the edge of his hand. The alphabet of letters arched over numbers one to ten, while in each corner were the words ‘yes’ and ‘no’. Ouija? He froze, and a feeling of dread passed through him.

  “Is that what I think it is?” Tim’s lips parted and the look of wonder was soon replaced by a grin. “I think we found the creep factor for this room.” Now it was his turn to bend down and pick the books out of the box.

  Brad’s eyes became round when he saw the titles. Oh my God. One was a Bible and the other contained an old man’s face, set in a pentacle which in turn was enclosed in a circle. The word Alchemist as well as intricate scrolls covered the rest of the midnight blue cover.

  Tim picked it up and leafed through the brittle pages. He looked at Brad with bobbing eyebrows. “Holy shit! This is gold!”

  “What does it say?”

  “Beats me. It’s written in Greek or something.” He held it up for Brad to look.

  “That’s not Greek; I think it’s Latin,” said Brad.

  “Whatever.” After closing the book back up Tim’s finger tapped its cover. Some book about spells and stuff, together with a Bible and a Ouija board?” He nodded his head with a leering smirk. Perfect ingredients for spooky shit, that’s for sure.” He placed everything back into the box and tucked it under the counter. “I’m going to come up with some ideas on how to use this stuff.” He held up a hand. “Wait a second! Maybe Sophie can come up with some ideas! She’s into this sort of stuff, right?”

  “Well... maybe. We’ll ask her if we wind up buying the place.” Brad’s heart pounded in his chest and his hand that had handled the box tingled a bit. Tim was right about that stuff making some good props. Even so, it was unnerving finding them.

  A rhythmic musical note broke the silence and Gwen called out from the dining room. “Sorry. It’s my phone.”

  When Brad stepped into the dining room again, she slipped it from her purse and a look of relief lightened her face as she scanned the small screen. “I’ve got to take this. I’ll be outside. You two just go on ahead and see the rest of the house.” Her feet clacked quickly across the room, making her escape out the front door.

  When the door closed after her, Tim’s fingers clutched Brad’s arm. “This is fantastic! I hope I didn’t seem too anxious to Gwen. We’ve got to get this place, but as cheaply as possible.”

  Brad nodded. “Absolutely. She couldn’t wait to get outside. She probably called herself on the phone for an excuse. I have to admit, a few times, I was totally creeped out, especially in the parlour.”

  “Me too! Isn’t it great!” Tim poked him playfully on his upper arm. “This place is the genuine article if you believe in that sort of thing. If we sense it, imagine what believers will experience. Hell, we may be able to charge five hundred a night!”

  Brad grinned and held his hand up for a high five clap. They were going to make some serious money from this house. Tim was right. And from what they’d seen so far, the renos wouldn’t be extensive. His hand was still tingling, and Tim’s high five didn’t help; he shook it walking from the dining room towards the front foyer. Walking down the hallway bordering the stairs and noticed a door tucked under the risers.

  He opened it and nodded. It was a powder room, with a white toilet and pedestal sink. It was obviously not an original fixture, but one that had been installed much later. Maybe by that poor family? His shoulders sagged and a long sigh hissed from his chest.

  He shook his head and took a deep breath. No matter. It would save them the expense of adding a bathroom on the main floor.

  He turned and backed out of the room at the thud of Tim’s feet on the stairs above him. Now that Gwen had left, they could talk more freely. He gripped the banister and raced to catch up.

  “Holy shit!” Tim’s booming voice, bounced down the stairwell.

  Brad paused for a moment. “What is it?” Without waiting for an answer he stepped quicker up the last few steps. At the top landing, about five feet away was another set of stairs, this one, much narrower. Of course, that one had to lead to the attic.

  He turned to see Tim standing in the centre of a long hallway, staring at a window that overlooked the lawn and front of the house. The dark floor and the green art deco pattern of the wallpaper above the crackled varnish on the baseboards were downright gloomy. Even the sunshine that tried to invade the space was bleary from windows that were filthy and smudged.

  “Isn’t this great? The hallways on each side of the stairs and the window on the far wall? It’s right out of an Edgar Allan Poe novel.” Tim glanced over his shoulder at Brad and smiled.

  Brad laughed and he muttered, “It was a dark and stormy night...” turning to push the first door open. Directly in front, on a black and white, marble tiled floor, was a painted vanity topped with a rust stained sink. At the far wall, was a white toilet, while an ancient, claw-foot bath tub claimed all of the other wall. A small window peeked high above it. Again the sad sense of abandonment and loss hit him as he backed out slowly.

  “There’re three bedrooms on each side of the stairwell. I know we were hoping for ten bedrooms but I think this will work.” Tim opened the door to the first bedroom and disappeared inside.

  The musty smell he’d noticed when he’d first set foot in the house was stronger up, as well as kind of clammy. He started breathing through his mouth as he followed Tim into the next bedroom.

  It had to have been a young girl’s room, with the walls papered in a pattern of pink roses above high wooden baseboards. There was a small closet with an iron bar where metal hangers still clung, waiting to be used.

  He stifled a sigh. How long had they waited, left by the girl who’d met a violent end?

  A series of taps rapping on the window caused him to whip around. A dark branch, with clusters of broad, green leaves was pressed against the glass, swaying slightly in the breeze. When he stepped over to peer through, an ancient maple stood like a sentinel about thirty feet from the house, its branches like arms reaching over the expanse of lawn to the building.

  “Normally, I’d say we should trim that tree but it makes an eerie sound tapping against the glass. It’ll scare the crap out of whoever sleeps in this room.” Tim’s hands rose and his fingers fluttered, “Booga, booga!” punctuated with a wide grin and bobbing eyebrows.

  “It’s perfect.” Brad walked out of the room smiling. It was a good thing that Gwen was still outside. He wouldn’t blame her if she thought that their black sense of humour was sacrilegious or something.

  The next room was about the same size, but the wallpaper was more suited for a young boy, with blue and green stripes. Crayon marks and stained plaster peeked out where the wallpaper had curled back. Brad stepped closer and he leaned over to decipher the red and purple marks.

  Jonas? It had to be a very young boy because the ‘J’ and ‘S’ were backwards.

  The hamburger he’d had for lunch before they left town, now felt like a lump of lead in his gut, and his hand rose to skitter across his stomach. The fact that it was a pre-schooler who’d slept in that room...had scrawled his name with crayons, only to meet a tragic end, was just plain wrong.

  Tim had scurried on ahead of him and he shouted. “Holy shit. Look at this, Brad.”

  When he entered the last room on that side of the house, the sight of the blue lake outside caught his eye first. The room was a
little larger than the first two bedrooms and the walls were painted a butter yellow shade. The cheerful colour and the lake outside made the room feel breezy, welcoming even.

  “Seriously. If we didn’t need the income from guests, I’d pick this room for myself. The one on the other side of this floor, is probably exactly the same.” Tim turned and stared out at the lake, his fingers cupped lightly on the glass to shield his eyes from the glare of the sun casting diamonds on the water.

  “I’ve got the feeling that this room was never used. Maybe a spare bedroom or guestroom?”

  Brad walked across the wooden floor and nodded. Yes. That was one thing he’d have to agree with Tim on. The sense of sadness and foreboding he had felt in the other rooms was completely absent here.

  The bedroom on the opposite side of the house mirrored the size and view of the lake, but it felt cold. It was still bright, with faded cream coloured paint, but a kidney-shaped dark blot marred the lighter colour of the wooden floor. For some reason, when Brad stepped into the room, he avoided stepping on the stain. The half digested burger rolled in his gut, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the blotch on the floor. It looked like blood.

  Even Tim seemed to be in more of a hurry to leave that room, flying by him to the other two bedrooms. It was clear that they had also been occupied by children, from the crayon graffiti and rips in the wallpaper.

  Brad turned to follow Tim’s thudding footsteps up the last set of stairs to the attic. There was no point in getting maudlin or sentimental about the former occupants of these rooms. What had happened, happened. What was done was done. This was an investment, nothing more. Instead of pondering about the past, he should be sizing the place up, looking for ways they could add to the atmosphere.

  He walked across the last section of the hallway and climbed the stairs. Light from a window near the top of the stairs filtered over his face when he emerged. The roofline carved into the space, shortening the length of the rooms, but the dormer window popped out, revealing the lane and front lawn.